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“There might be fingerprints.”
“In addition to Misty’s prints.” She’d already said that she fired the gun and would, therefore, have gunshot residue on her clothes.
He wished that his sister had come up with a more convincing story—something about how David Welling attacked her, and she was forced to defend herself. The idea of a murderer who could appear out of nowhere and vanish in the blink of an eye was improbable. It sounded like a lie. And lying made Misty look as if she had something to hide.
If this investigation went wrong, it was entirely possible that his sister would be delivering her baby in jail.
Chapter Three
While Aiden and Clinton messed around with the Jeep, trying to dig out the rear tires, Tab took a striped wool blanket from her saddlebags and handed it to Misty. “Spread this on the ground. Choose a spot that’s out of the wind.”
“Why?”
“You might as well get comfortable. It’s going to take a while for the authorities to get here.”
Definitely an understatement. When Aiden had put through calls to the tribal police, the BIA and the sheriff, she’d heard the growing frustration in his voice. Everybody promised to respond just as soon as they could, which meant they had other business to clean off their plates.
Though Tab thought that murder should take precedence, she was accustomed to bureaucracy. There was nothing to do but wait. She dug through her saddlebag, ignoring the medical equipment, and found a square plastic container packed with more practical supplies.
“All this waiting around sucks,” Misty said. She turned her gaze toward the clearing where the body lay covered by a tarp. “But I won’t leave. I owe it to David to talk to the sheriff. I’m the only witness.”
And the most obvious suspect. In spite of the giggles and the frequent flipping of her blond hair, Misty wasn’t a fool. The girl had to realize how implausible her story about the vanishing gunman sounded. She had to know that she could be charged with murder.
Tab followed her to a spot beside a low flat rock and helped her lay the blanket over the dried prairie grass. “Tell me about David.”
“We only went out on one date. There wasn’t any kissing or anything.” Misty gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Can I tell you a secret? You have to promise not to let Aiden know.”
As Tab felt herself being drawn more deeply into the situation, her defenses rose. The smart move would be to back off. She was a midwife, not a policewoman. A murder investigation wasn’t her problem. But her heart wouldn’t let her abandon Misty. “Does your secret have anything to do with David Welling’s death?”
“No way,” Misty said.
“Then I won’t tell anybody else. I promise. Wild horses won’t drag it out of me.”
“In sophomore year at Henley High, me and Lisa and Heather made a bet. Whoever was the first to date every guy in the junior and senior class was the winner.”
“Why juniors and seniors? You were sophomores.”
“The boys our age were dorks, and most of them didn’t have their driver’s licenses. That’s why we went for the older guys. Our bet wasn’t as wild as it sounds. There were only seventy-six guys total in both classes.”
Their bet sounded like a sure way to get into trouble. Tab imagined these three little heartbreakers sowing havoc at Henley High. “What counted as a date?”
“The guy had to invite you. It could be a study date or a ski trip or going to a party. Or they had to buy you something, like if you went out in a group and they paid for your burger.”
“What happened with you and David?”
“He was fixing a flat tire for me at his uncle’s gas station—”
“Wait a minute. How old were you?”
“Not old enough to have my license, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You stole the car?”
“Borrowed it from Aiden. He was too busy running the ranch and learning how to pilot his chopper to be worried about me.” She rolled her eyes. “Geez, Tab. I started driving around on the ranch as soon as I was big enough to see over the steering wheel. You know how it is.”
“I do.” Tab had attended high school in Billings—a city where regulations were enforced. Though Henley was less than fifty miles away, she knew that different rules applied. “So, you and David were at the gas station. Then what?”
“We got to talking. I barely knew him. He was really shy and quiet, didn’t play football or basketball. But he had a real cute smile.”
“And you started flirting.”
“He bought me an orange soda.” She giggled. “He asked me out, too. But I turned him down.”
“Why?”
“When he bought the soda, I could cross him off my list. And he was nice, you know. I didn’t want to lead him on.”
Tab was glad to hear that Misty had a conscience, after all. “Who won the bet?”
“Nobody. We all found boyfriends, and we didn’t want to be with anybody else. It’s funny, you know. I probably never would have gone out with Clinton if it hadn’t been for that bet. And now, he’s my baby’s daddy.”
“And you’re happy about that?”
“You bet I am.” Misty positioned herself on the blanket with her legs tucked under. With her pregnant belly, she looked like a blond Buddha. “This is a nice, thick blanket. Why did you bring it along?”
“When you first called and said you were in labor, I thought I might be delivering your baby out here.”
“Oh. My. God. That is so totally not sanitary.”
Tab didn’t bother with a long, thoughtful explanation about how childbirth was a natural process not an illness that required hospitalization. Midwifery was her lifework, and she didn’t feel a need to justify her profession. Some people got it. Others didn’t.
“My ancestors have been having babies without hospitals for a very long time. So have yours.”
“I guess you’re right. The Gabriels have been ranching in this area since the early 1900s. I don’t guess there were many hospitals back then.”
An accurate assumption, but Tab was fairly certain that Misty’s great-grandmother had the best care that money could buy. The Gabriels had a history of wealth and power that held true to the present day. Their cattle ranch provided employment for many people in the area. The family reputation might work in Misty’s favor when it came to murder charges, but Tab suspected that there were those who resented the Gabriel clan and would take perverse pleasure in seeing Misty behind bars.
“I want to talk to you about stress,” Tab said.
“Okay.”
“When you’re pregnant,” Tab said, “it’s not good for you to be under a lot of stress. That means it’s not good for your baby, either.”
“What can I do? Is there some kind of herb I can take?”
Many natural remedies were used to encourage labor, but Misty wasn’t at that point. “You’re already taking prenatal vitamins, right? And probably extra iron.”
Misty bobbed her head. “And I’m drinking herbal teas, mostly chamomile. I like doing organic stuff. I made Clinton take a class on natural childbirth that they were teaching at the hospital in Henley.”
“Good for you.” Tab squatted at the edge of the blanket and opened the plastic container she’d brought from her saddlebags. “Those breathing techniques are also useful for dealing with stress. Concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. Do you ever meditate?”
“You mean like yoga? Nope, that’s not my thing.”
“What helps you slow down and relax?” Tab assumed from Misty’s confused expression that slowing down wasn’t part of her agenda. “How about music? Do you listen to music?”
“All the time.” She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny player attached to ear buds. “Mostly country and western. Is that unstressful?”
“Better than heavy metal,” Tab said. “When you feel yourself getting tight inside, just plug in your music, close your eyes and tune out all the other distractions.”
From the plastic container, she unpacked a simple picnic of crackers, cheese, jerky, an apple and a six-pack of bottled water. Misty pounced on the jerky. “You’re a mind reader, Tab. I was starving.”
Working with pregnant women taught her that she couldn’t go wrong with healthy snacks. “Dig in before the guys figure out that there’s food over here.”
Aiden’s effort to get the Jeep unstuck had deteriorated to walking about the vehicle, scratching his head and scowling. Clinton was doing much the same. Very likely, they’d come to the conclusion that when the sheriff got here, they could hook up a winch.
Sitting back on her heels, Tab watched as Misty devoured a chunk of jerky, took a huge swig from the water bottle and gave a loud burp followed by a giggle. “Sorry,” Misty said. “That was gross.”
“A little bit.”
“My body keeps doing this weird stuff. I have to pee all the time.”
“Can you feel the baby kicking?”
“I can.” A happy smile brightened her face. “That part is really cool.”
Tab was reminded of the seven-year-old she used to babysit. That summer had been rough on the girl. Not only had she lost her father, but her mother had been so devastated that she could barely drag herself out of bed. And Aiden had been preoccupied with the day-to-day operations at the ranch. Throughout, Misty maintained a relentlessly cheerful attitude to hide her pain and vulnerability.
“I wish I could stay here and wait with you,” Tab said, “but I need to leave soon.”
Misty nodded as she screwed the top back onto the water bottle. When she looked up, her eyes were troubled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Am I going to jail?”
Tab couldn’t promise a good outcome. Even if Misty was completely innocent, there were no guarantees. “I don’t know.”
AN HOUR LATER, THE SUN dipped low in the western sky. None of the law enforcement people had yet arrived on the scene, but Tab couldn’t wait any longer. Nightfall came early in November, and she didn’t want to ride home in the dark. It wasn’t far to her grandma’s house, probably only seven or eight miles, but there wasn’t a clearly marked trail between here and there, and she didn’t want to take a chance on getting lost.
After she gave Misty a hug, Tab made her way through the sage and dried prairie grass to where Shua was nibbling at a shrub. Aiden strode toward her. “Leaving so soon?”
“Not that it hasn’t been fun,” she said. “The sheriff can contact me later for a statement.”
“I’m glad you’re heading out while there’s still enough light to see where you’re going. You haven’t lived around here for a couple of years. Things change.”
As far as she could see, the change was minimal. The local landmarks—rolling hills, ridges and the river—were much the same as when she was a kid. On the opposite side of the Little Big Horn, she saw the sandstone cliff and the familiar arch above Half-Moon Cave. The land was eternal; the people were different.
She glanced over her shoulder at Misty’s little nest on the striped wool blanket. Though Clinton had his arm around her, Misty’s shoulders slumped, and her head drooped. “I’m worried about her,” Tab said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, call me.”
“Sure.”
His hand rested on Shua’s neck, and he stroked along the line of the horse’s mane. The gesture was completely natural, like the absentminded way you might pet a cat that jumped on your lap. This casual attitude around livestock said a lot about Aiden.
Unlike most of the men she’d dated in Billings and Missoula, he’d grown up on a ranch and was 100 percent cowboy. Right now, he was wearing a baseball cap instead of a Stetson, but he still looked the part with his long, lean body, his scuffed boots and his well-worn jeans. His hands were calloused. His wrists were strong. And his gray eyes had that cool awareness that came from hours of staring across the wide prairies, watching over several hundred head of cattle.
Had he changed? She wasn’t sure.
Though she wasn’t sixteen anymore, she was still a little bit blinded by her crush on him. When she looked at him, her pulse rate quickened. She had to swallow hard before she trusted herself to speak without stammering.
“I’m serious about having Misty call me,” she said. “She needs a friend.”
“You got that right. The girls she used to pal around with in high school are off at college, joining sororities and having all kinds of fun.” A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I wanted that for her. Misty’s a smart kid.”
“You make it sound like her life is over.”
“She wanted to be a lawyer, talked about it all the time. She was planning to take on injustice and set the world straight. She’d sent off her application to a couple of universities, and she’d gotten accepted.”
“A lawyer, huh? That’s terrific.”
“Now, she’s going to be stuck on the ranch.”
Tab didn’t like his attitude and all that it implied. “She doesn’t have to give up her dreams. Having a baby isn’t the end of the world for Misty.”
His gaze met hers, and she braced herself for a bullheaded argument about how womenfolk are supposed to stay home and tend the young. Instead, Aiden said, “You’re right.”
“You’re damn right that I’m right.” She’d gotten herself all puffed up for no reason. “Right?”
“I’m not fighting you, Tab.”
“Well, good.”
“Misty needs to hear that she’s still got opportunities. She can still go to college and to law school.” His expression warmed. “It’d be good for her to spend time with you.”
Being close to Misty meant also being near him, which might be the very definition of a win-win situation. She cleared her throat and reached for her saddle. “I should mount up.”
“Not yet.”
When he lightly touched her shoulder, she spun around to face him. He was standing so close that she could see the prisms and facets in his eyes. “What is it, Aiden?”
“If you’ll wait a bit before you get up on your horse, I’d like to walk with you.”
“Suit yourself.”
Taking the reins, she stepped in front of Shua and made a clicking noise. The horse ambled along behind her as she and Aiden strolled along a path that followed the winding course of the river.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’d like to escort you all the way back to your grandma’s place and make sure you get home safely.”
“I can handle myself.”
